A Prince's Heart
by Shepard of the Lost
Summary: The sheltered prince, Altair, and his humble servant, Malik, have a complicated relationship to say the least. Altair is to be married to the princess of England. So where does that leave Malik?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So, I've been reading a couple of AU's where Altair and Malik are princes and one of them is a suitor and all that junk…no offense to the writers (the stories are really good) but I find that just a little bothersome when a prince is being courted by another prince and no one is saying anything and even encouraging it. Personally, I think it would be much more exciting if one of them was a servant and the other a prince being married off to a princess. So, I'm going to try my hand at that. Here goes nothing…**

**(and to my loyal readers of Behind Closed Doors, don't worry. I know it's been awhile since I last updated it but I promise it will be good. I'm working on the next chapter write now. I just needed a little break.) :D**

The young prince of Masyaf sat at the far end of a long table, hardly listening to the discussion at hand between the current ruler of his kingdom and the visitors from some foreign country he couldn't be bothered to remember the name of. His head rested against the open palm of his left hand and his eyes were looking far off into an imaginary land. If he were king, he would never call a single one of these boring meetings to negotiate peace and just wipe out the threatening kingdom. But, alas, he was too young for now. His father had died of disease before he was born and his mother perished shortly after giving birth to him. That left his uncle, Al Mualim, to look after the kingdom. Only until he could come of age or prove that he was mature enough otherwise. Altair respected his uncle. However, his six-year-old ego still told him he could run this land better than even Al Mualim.

"Altair? Altair, are you listening?" his uncle's old, gravelly voice barked at the six-year-old.

Altair jump at Al Mualim's tone and quickly responded, "Yes, sir."

"Then what did I just say to the king of England?" Al Mualim asked with a skeptical tone.

"I…uh…you were saying…" Altair's voice trailed off, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

"That's what I thought." Al Mualim said with disapproval, "We were discussing your arrangement with the king's daughter. Maria was it?" the older man looked to the foreign king for confirmation. He nodded and Al Mualim continued, "Masyaf and England will be joined in a peace treaty, so long as you are to be wedded to their princess."

"But I don't even know her! And besides, girls are gross!" Altair protested. Al Mualim gave him a chilling glare and the youth sank low in his seat.

Fortunately, the king of England found this little outburst amusing, "My Maria said the same thing when I told her she would be marrying him! Of course, I told her it was important for our kingdom to have allies. I said, 'It is your duty as future queen.' She straightened up after that. She takes her duties very seriously. Very mature for her age, I must say."

"That is most amusing, King Robert. However, for my nephew, things are very different. These protests are more common than I would like."

The two older men went on with their discussion about each other's child and how stubborn they could be. This conversation didn't seem to be at all important and Altair droned off again. Every now and then, he would be sure to catch a few words, just in case his uncle called him out again. He did not, however, and the painfully boring meeting was over once a date for the two children to meet had been set. He scurried off as quickly as he could, off to the stables. A servant was waiting for him there with Altair's favorite horse, a solid black stallion he had dubbed Anas, saddled and eager for his daily run.

"Go and get a horse for yourself, Malik. You can come with me. I'll wait." The prince said to his servant with a welcoming grin. Though Malik was only slightly younger than the prince, a difference of about six months, he still felt he was the more mature one that had to constantly look out for the prince. Naturally, he would not deny the offer, nor could he unless he was willing to risk a beating from his father for refusing the prince.

Malik rolled his eyes and saddled _his_ favorite horse, and older mare with soft, brown eyes and a coat to match. Altair leaped up onto his stead with no need of assistance and Malik did the same. The prince led in the fast-paced ride through the outskirts of the city, laughing when he looked to see Malik trailing behind him. It wasn't long before they had reached Altair's destination far outside the city gates; a slow moving river, wide and deep and perfect for swimming on hot days like this one. Technically, he wasn't supposed to be outside of the city at all, but no one was going to tell the prince of Masyaf where he could and couldn't go, especially a lowly guard, or a servant for that matter.

Altair and Malik slowed their horses to a stop and dismounted. Altair started striping right away, but Malik paused to loosen the saddles of both horses and bring them to the river for a drink. The young prince splashed around in the river, having the time of his life and attempting to get Malik to join him. However, Malik was more concerned with matters other than personal enjoyment, "Come on in, Malik! Why worry about the horses? They will be fine for an hour or so." The older boy called from the water.

"I'm the one responsible for the horses. If one gets sick or dies from this heat, it will be I who pays the price, prince Altiar; not you." Malik responded coolly.

Altair rolled his eyes and went under water. Malik allowed the horses to finish drinking before tying them in the sparse shade of a nearby try. He noticed the silence first. Up until now, Altair had been making as much noise as possible, whether it be splashing or shouting. Malik turned quickly and saw nothing. He looked up and down the river frantically for the price but saw nothing, "Prince Altair!" he yelled and rushed into the murky river with his clothes still on. He was only in about waste deep before the young prince sprang up from behind him and tackled Malik, effectively scary the holy piss out of the younger boy, "What the hell are you doing?" he yelled, trying to keep Altair from dunking his head under water.

"Scared ya, didn't I?" Altair said, giggling.

Malik pouted for a moment before laughing himself, mostly with relief that the prince had not drowned, partly at himself for falling for the prank. Then he remembered his now sopping wet clothes, "Great, now I have to let these dry out before the sun goes down."

"What for? Just get some new ones." Altair said like it was nothing.

Malik should have expected that from a prince. The boy never had to worry about anything. Servants brought him food when he was hungry, water when he was thirsty, and clothes whenever he got board of the ones he already had, "I don't get new clothes just because they get wet, prince Altair. I do not have that luxury."

Altair seemed to consider this for a moment before speaking up, "Then I'll get you some." He stated.

"I still need to dry them out. If I where wet clothes all the way back to the city, I could get sick."

"Fine." Altair conceded before swimming off to the deeper part of the river.

Malik waded through the water until he reached the bank. He stripped and hung his clothes in the same tree the horses were tied to before running back into the water. It quickly became clear that Altair enjoyed sneaking up on Malik as he repeated the same trick multiple times, though not to make Malik think he had drown. It was still fun to let him think there was a snake swimming by his leg.

When it was nearly sunset, they got out to air dry in the last warm rays of the sun. Altair turned his head to look at Malik, "Do you really not have any other clothes?"

"I have other clothes but not many. I have to make these last. Why, if you don't mind my asking, is that so hard for you to believe, prince Altair?"

"I've always got clothes." The older boy shrugged.

Malik was quiet for a moment. There were quite a few things he would like to say to the young prince, but he was taught to never speak to a member of the royal family unless spoken to first. If he insulted the king, price, or anyone else higher up on the political food chain than him, he could very easily be sentenced to death. Altair didn't seem to understand this, however. It seemed waiting to be spoken to only irritated him, "Why are you being so quiet? It's creepy."

"My apologies, prince. What is it you would like to discuss."

Altair frowned, slightly and shrugged, "I am getting married." He said casually.

"And who is it you will be marrying, if I may ask?"

"I do not know. Some _girl_." Altair spoke to show his obvious disapproval.

Malik fought down a smile, "Girls _are_ ridiculous."

"I know! Why can't I just be king on my own? Why do I need a wife?"

"May I ask you something, prince Altair?" the older nodded, "Did they simply just decide this? Or is there a reason behind your arrangement?"

Altair thought long and hard, struggling to drag up the memories of such a boring discussion, "Mmmm…I think it's part of a treaty between Masyaf and England."

"Then perhaps it is for the best. I believe our relationship with the Kingdom in England has been strained. I hear my father talk about it with the other servants. They think that war may breakout if something is not done."

"So what? We could simply conquer them and make our kingdom that much stronger. We could do that with any country, actually."

Malik frowned, "There is no guarantee that we would win the war and even if we did, we would be vulnerable for a sometime while our forces recover. Besides, it does not matter how strong your kingdom is if the world hates you."

Altair frowned and for a second, Malik thought he would be getting in trouble later with his elders, but then the older boy gave a short laugh and patted Malik on the back, "You know, that is actually very smart. I am impressed a servant would have such knowledge in politics. Marrying you would be endlessly more useful than marrying some foreign girl I don't even know!"

Malik laughed, shyly. He got up to check his clothes which had been dry for some time now. He redressed himself and Altair followed his lead. They readied the horses and road back toward the kingdom. Altair waited for Malik to finish tending to the horses, once they were back in the stables. Malik was one of his more personal servants that he kept around more often than others. He told people, both noble and peasant, that it was simply to have an extra pair of hands around, just in case. But, secretly, Altair was lonely. He enjoyed the company of the slightly younger boy. Most of the boys were told that they had to play with him or talk to him or pay him any attention at all or they would be punished. Altair had personally sought out Malik in the hopes of finding a real friend. It took a while for the younger to relax around him but, eventually, he did for the most part. Now, Altair had someone he could call a friend; someone he felt he could trust to stay by him because he wanted too and not because he feared being beaten or exiled. When Malik was finished with the horses, they walked back to the palace together chatting about nothing in particular.

Malik escorted Altair to his chambers before turning to head back to the servants' quarters. He was always careful to avoid the guards when coming back from Altair's room. He wasn't really allowed to go that far into the palace without one of his parents with him. He had told Altair that once before, but the other boy just said that if anybody got onto him then he would have them sent to the dungeon. Did they even have a dungeon? Altair's words didn't exactly comfort Malik, seeing as how he would have already received his punishment by the time Altair had his way with whoever had carried it out.

The young servant reached his home quickly. He entered the tiny, single roomed apartment that he shared with his parents and three-year-old brother, Kadar. His mother was busy with dinner while his father kept Kadar from getting under foot. His mother greeted him with a smile as Kadar screamed with excitement and rushed up to wrap his small arms around Malik's waist.

"You were gone a long while, Malik." His father said in a deep voice.

"I was with the prince."

"He seems to like you quite a bit." His mother spoke softly, looking back at the pot of stew she was stirring.

Malik shrugged, "He keeps me around in case he needs me to hold something or whatever."

"Watch your tone when you speak about the royal family, Malik." His father said in a mild warning.

Malik nodded and went to sit on the floor at the low table and waited to be served his dinner.

Altair flopped on his luxurious bed and sighed as the fluffy blankets and pillows swallowed him whole. Malik had said he didn't have that many clothes. Why was that? He couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. Why wouldn't he have any clothes? Servants made clothes. Why couldn't he just make some for himself? It well still early in the evening, but Altair had planned to go to bed once he arrived home. But, despite how heavy his body felt from swimming most of the day, his mind was too active to allow him to sleep.

He sprang up from his bed, suddenly, and crossed his room in several long strides. He approached his dresser and looked at all the clothes he never really wore anymore. If Malik didn't have any clothes, Altair would just give him some. That's what he had told him at the river. He had never lied to Malik; never wanted too. Now, he didn't want to _start_ lying to Malik. From now on, when he told Malik he was going to do something, he was going to do it. He gathered up all the clothes he didn't want and carried them down the vast halls of the palace. A few servants stopped to either bow or smile at him, thinking he couldn't see them over the huge pile of laundry he was carrying (not that he could, but still). He was halfway to the servants' quarters before a guardsman finally stopped to ask if he needed assistants. Altair scowled at him when he showed his surprise at the young prince's destination and reason for going. The guard straightened up after that.

Malik was utterly shocked when he answered the knock at his door to find Altair smiling wide with a guard holding a gross amount of clothes, "Told you I would get you some clothes." The prince said cheerfully. The guard walked in and asked where he should put his load. Malik's mother jumped up and said she would take them. Malik looked at the prince with disbelief. He didn't really see a need for so many fancy outfits but there was no denying royalty. Malik's family thanked him immensely as he left to return to his own chambers. Malik couldn't help but think that he must be careful of what he tells Altair from now on, less he be given the entire palace…and the hatred of every servant in Masyaf.

**AN: Welp, there it is. I think this is a wonderful starting point for this story. Start them out young, get them use to thinking little things that don't really mean anything until puberty hits and then BAM! Instant inner conflict! Then when Maria comes into the picture…oooooh! I have soooo many ideas right now! I'm actually excited about this! XD Hope you guys liked it and will continue to like it!**

**P.S: My creative writing teacher here in college has mixed feelings about fanfiction. He thinks its nice that it gets people to write but isn't all that great considering you have to build of someone else's ideas. Maybe I should show him some of my stuff 'cause, really, the only thing I'm taking from Ubisoft are names, right? Great, now I feel the need to through in a disclaimer. I own nothing! There, I did it. :P**


	2. Chapter 2

It seemed fate was toying with Altaïr. He just wanted to meet this princess and be done with it. Several matters had come up that kept this from happening. The date had originally been set for one month after the arrangement had first been made. When that time came, however, they received word that the princess was not feeling well and an alternative date was set. Then, Altaïr had gotten careless around one of the royal horses and received a swift kick to the face. The impact effectively split his upper and bottom lip and broken his nose. He refused to do any traveling for another six weeks. Altaïr wasn't complaining, though. Malik wasn't coming with him. These delays meant they had more time together. But, soon enough, there was nothing keeping him from going to England. They day before they left Altair sent someone to get Malik and escort him to his room.

Malik was there in a moment. He wasn't sure what Altaïr wanted from him and it didn't really matter. The older boy opened the door and smiled, inviting Malik in. the servant boy hesitated for a second. To enter the prince's room was not something you just did. Altaïr was inviting him in, though. It would be fine, wouldn't it? The prince frowned when Malik didn't move right away. He huffed and crossed his arms. Usually, when he showed his displeasure, people jumped to fix their mistakes. Malik was different though. When he looked at Altaïr's face his brows nit in confusion and he asked, "What is that face for, prince?"

Altair blinked and relaxed his features, "I invited you into my room, but you aren't moving. Why not?"

"Forgive me, prince Altair. But it is not every day that I am asked to enter the personal quarters of a member to the royal family."

"But I'm the one inviting you. I swear, Malik…you just don't make any sense sometimes."

Malik blushed, slightly as Altaïr motioned his arm in his second attempt at telling Malik to come in. He took a rather hesitant step but the prince didn't feel like waiting any longer and just grabbed Malik by the shirt and pulled him in, shutting the door behind him, "Why aren't you wearing the clothes I gave you?" Altaïr asked as if he were a mother speaking to a child who had been caught doing something they knew they weren't supposed to.

"My apologies. I did not want to get them dirty when I was doing my chores. When you sent for me, I was told to come to you, immediately. I did not think I had time to stop and change." Malik said with partial truth. He had been raised to make everything last so it was only natural that he wouldn't be so careless with his gifts. The other reason, however, was because he did not want to draw unwanted attention to himself or his family. Fancy silk robes on a servant boy would gain them suspicion of thievery or, at the very least, the relentless teasing of the other children in his area. The poor were a close-nit bunch who learned at an early age that rich people were the greedy enemy. If you gained the favor of a nobleman or higher, you were an outcast of the community. You were accused of being a whore or a snitch or boot-licker. That's just the way things were.

Altaïr didn't realize this, it seemed, and disappeared through an open door. Moments later he came back with a black, silk shirt with gold trim and a pair of pants to match, "Put these on."

Malik took the clothes, doing his best to keep a neutral face, "Where should I change?"

Altaïr shrugged, "I don't care." He crossed over to his outrageously huge bed and sat there, watching.

Malik felt his cheeks flush as he debated whether or not he dared to go off on his own or actually dress in front of the prince. He walked slowly towards the same room Altaïr had just come out of. He was quick to dress in the fancy clothes and returned to find the prince spread out on the bed with his eyes closed. The older boy's head peaked up upon hearing Malik's return and he motioned for the servant to join him on the bed. Malik obeyed; it was easier to think of it as obeying an order rather than accepting some form of generosity.

"I have to leave tomorrow." Altaïr said as Malik sat next to him.

"You're not excited?"

"Why would I be? I'm going to meet the girl I'm meant to marry when we are both adults. I might not even like her. What will I do then?"

Malik shrugged, "You do not have to like her. You only need to marry her. She doesn't have to be your only wife, anyway. With your wealth, you may have whoever you want."

"Actually, part of the arrangement is for us to be married in accordance with her religion. Did you know, they are only allowed one wife in England? And it's forever! I could be stuck with a woman that I cannot stand for the rest of my life!" Altaïr cringed and flailed his arms in frustration.

Malik took a moment to admire the cleverness of this plan. If Altaïr and this princess were married to appear as the foreign country's faith, protest and resistance would be low and weak. The prince did not seem to care though. Malik felt a small bit of pity for the older boy, "I am sorry, prince Altaïr. But maybe she won't be so bad. Perhaps you are working yourself up for nothing."

Altaïr looked at his servant through the corner of his eye, "Maybe…" he said with skepticism. There was a fairly long moment of silence before the young prince spoke again, "What about you, Malik? Do you have plans to marry anyone?"

"I have never really thought about it. I suppose I will marry, eventually."

"But you will get to choose your wife."

"Well, yes, but I am not the prince of Masyaf."

This was apparently not the answer Altaïr wanted to hear, "I did not ask to be prince, you know."

"No! That isn't what I meant, prince Altaïr. I just…" Malik panicked as he thought he might have insulted the prince and fumbled for the words to right his mistake.

Altaïr sat up and put a hand on the younger boys shoulder, "Don't get so worked up, Malik." He sighed, "Really, I'm jealous of you."

"Jealous…?" Malik said, confused. How could someone so rich and powerful be jealous of a servant boy?

"You can make your own decisions; go wherever you want, where whatever you want, eat whatever you want. Here, I'm restricted. Every action I take has an effect on someone else. If that effect is negative and toward the wrong person, a war could breakout, famine, disease; I have to dress how others want me to, eat what they tell me too, and now I don't even get to choose who I'm going to spend my life with. Being a prince isn't what it's all thought up to be." Altaïr seemed to look off into oblivion, his gaze fixating on nothing in particular.

"I…had no idea you felt that way, prince." Malik stated, awestruck at this sudden outpour of emotion and display of trust.

"You can't tell anyone I said that." He looked at the servant boy with a stern expression, "If you do I will…will…"

"Have me sent to the dungeon; I know." Malik finished and attempted to get off the bed but Altaïr grabbed his arm.

"You could stay here tonight…if you wanted to…" the young prince said with an almost shy voice.

"Sire, I really should get back to my family..." Malik said, trying to be as polite as possible. If Altaïr pressed, however, and made this offer a command, he would have no choice but to stay.

But Altaïr only pouted and turned to lay on his side with his back to Malik, "Fine, go, I don't care."

The younger boy gave pause before sliding off the bed and exiting the room. He hadn't realized how late it had gotten between his chores and this surprise summons by the prince. When the messenger had told him that Altaïr wished to see him he had been happy. Altaïr was pleasant to be around, when he wasn't being a spoil brat, and he actually allowed Malik to express his opinion every now and then. That was a rare opportunity when you were a servant to the royal family. But Malik didn't think they were truly friends. He didn't think Altaïr thought so, either. He would make it perfectly clear whenever Al Mualim, or anyone for that matter, commented on how much time they spent together. Still, it was nice to have an excuse to do something other than work.

Upon exiting the palace, Malik looked up into the twilight sky. He had better hurry home or his mother would worry. He picked up his pace down the hilly trail that led to the servants' quarters; a large apartment complex that contained hundreds of separate living spaces. His home was on the lowest floor and easy to access, a convenience usually granted to small families. It contained the largest apartments, but even they only had one bedroom. In fact, Altaïr's bedroom alone could house four families about the size of Malik's.

He walked down the alleyway with minor caution. He never did see the three boys following him. He didn't see the large rock that hit him on the shoulder. He didn't see that first punch from the oldest of the three boys that sent him crumbling to the ground. He did hear exactly what he feared, though. He heard names spat at him. He heard the venom in each curse and insult. He felt his eye swell shut after being kicked in the face, his ring finger crack underneath someone's foot. He tried to fight back, to grab at a leg or block a kick. It was useless. When the beating finally stopped, he felt a wad of spit hit his cheek and ooze down into a busted lip.

"That'll teach you to chum up to the rich folk, you little bitch!"

"Whore!"

"Bet you'd sell out your own family for a pat on the head! You the prince's lapdog now?"

There was a shout from a guard off in the distance. The boys scattered but not before one of them threw in one more kick, knocking out one of Malik's teeth. He didn't move and the guard didn't come to help him. He probably didn't even see Malik and had only noticed the other children because of all the noise they were making. The servant boy just lay on the ground until he was sure there was no one else around. Then, he picked himself up, whipped the blood and spit from his face, and limped the rest of the way home.

Altaïr was in a foul mood the entire three-week boat trip to England. He didn't like water and he most certainly didn't like sitting on top of it. That much was obvious from his constant vomiting. He really hated traveling out of country. He couldn't have reached land soon enough. His uncle and several guardsmen had accompanied him to the meeting of his future wife, much to Altaïr displeasure. He had to put up with Al Mualim's constant lectures on how to properly greet the royal family of England for the entire trip over and now he had to deal with his incessant nagging whenever Altaïr slumped over or yawned widely.

It was several more days before they finally arrived at the castle, where they we warmly greeted by royal servants and escorted to the dining hall. Here, they finally met the king that had visited their country months ago and his queen. Al Mualim and the king Robert greeted each other politely and his uncle was introduced to the king's wife. It was several hours of insufferable formalities before Maria was brought in to meet Altaïr.

When she approached him, the room was silent with excitement and anticipation. She strode up to him with confidence and grace while he looked on in obvious boredom, "Are you prince Altaïr? The one I'm supposed to marry?" she said in a very business-like tone, which the adults found amusing. Altaïr just thought it was annoying, "I am." He replied in perfect English, thanks to his uncles tutoring.

"Then, I suppose I would like to kiss you." She said in that same tone and before Altaïr could be given a chance to react, she planted her rosy lips on his cheek and the adults all laughed and clapped. Altaïr simply whipped his cheek, as if trying to erase that it had ever happened from history.

There was a grand feast after their initial meeting, with strange food and dancing women. Altaïr and Maria were seated next to each other on the opposite side of the room, away from their caretakers, so that they could get to know each other.

"Do you like horses?" Maria asked.

"Yeah." Altaïr responded with utter disinterest.

"Do you want to see mine? She so beautiful!"

"Are we not supposed to stay here?"

"It will only take a moment. They won't even notice we're gone."

"Alright, I guess."

The two children wandered off, using the chaos of the celebrations as a cover. Maria led Altaïr along a stone wall and moments later he was standing in front of a rather impressive stable. His own stables were large with at least twenty horses in each, but hers held a more elegant design to them with colorful paint and intricate swirls engraved into the wood. She led him down the rows of stalls and came to a stop in front of one that held a painted filly with bright blue eyes. Altaïr thought it was odd that the horse had such an eye color. All of his horses had dark brown eyes. He thought this color was rather unsettling but Maria seemed to adore its uniqueness, "This is Majesty." She squealed as the filly's nose reached over her stall gate to nuzzle the girl.

Altaïr looked around at the other horses and pointed to the black one with a white blaze running down its nose, "What's that one's name?" he asked.

She seemed slightly insulted that he should such little interest in her favorite horse but answered his question regardless, "That's Jack. He's mean. He tried to bight my father once when we were training him. He's wild. Father caught him when he was in Spain, doing business with their King."

Altaïr was hardly listening to her. The stallion held a fire in his eyes and the young prince couldn't help but walk up to him. He held up his hand for the horse to smell it and Maria gasped, nervously. Altaïr, however, didn't see what the big deal was, "He doesn't seem so bad." As he spoke, Jack decided to show the boy exactly why Maria didn't like him and chopped down hard on Altaïr's ring finger. The prince screamed and pulled pack. Maria screamed with him and rushed up to see how bad it was but stopped and danced around, trying to decide if she should look at his finger or stay away and keep the blood off her gown.

"W-wait here! I'll go get father!" she cried, holding back tears and trying very hard to keep from screaming frantically. She ran as quickly as she could, bunching her long dress up in her hands to keep from tripping. Altaïr didn't want to be left alone and tried to run after her but the blood loss was making him dizzy, so he sat down just outside the stables.

It wasn't long before Maria came running back along with half the party. Al Mualim knelt down beside his nephew and told the boy to let him see, "Hmm…yes, it appears you are missing a finger. When Maria came screaming that a horse had bitten it off, we thought she might have been exaggerating." The older man said, wrapping a cloth around the remaining nub to stop the bleeding.

"I'm terribly sorry this happened, King Al Mualim. Please, accept my condolences and know that the horse will be destroyed, immediately." King Robert spoke quickly.

"No!" Altaïr protested, "Maria told me he was wild but I wanted to pet him anyway! It was not his fault! Uncle, please do not let them kill him!" the prince pleaded, tears stinging his eyes but not yet spilling over.

"Hush, boy. Watch your tone." Al Mualim spoke harshly, "It is not necessary for you to go through the trouble of killing the horse. I assure you; my nephew more than likely had this coming to him."

"Hmm, yes, well, be that as it may, Jack has caused me grief before. It would not be such a burden for me to be rid of him."

Maria looked at the distress shown on Altaïr's face and turned to her father, "Father, if prince Altaïr does not want the horse dead, and you wish to be rid of it as well, might I offer a compromise?"

"And what is your suggestion, dear." He asked with amusement.

"I want to give Altaïr the horse as a wedding present." She said with confidence, regaining her composure after the initial shock of the incident had died down.

Her father considered this idea and looked to Al Mualim for confirmation. The older man then looked to Altaïr who nodded excitedly, despite the mild dizziness he was still experiencing. It was settled, then. Altaïr left England in a few days and brought back with him, a brand new horse.

**AN: Right, so I realize it's a bit of a stretch making England the "other kingdom" given the distance and time and such, but I'm hoping I can lean on the whole "it's an AU so it doesn't have to follow the same geographical rules as the normal universe." Probably not but if I can just squish that into yalls' brains so you can maybe get over that obstacle 'cause I'm too lazy to go back and change it, that'd be great…terribly sorry. **


	3. Chapter 3

Malik was surprised to see Altaïr in the stalls early that morning. He was currently doting over the black stallion he had brought in from England, Jack. Malik did not enjoy Jack's company in the least. Once, he had been sweeping the path that led through the stalls and the horse had tried to bite him. The servant boy had to tie Jack outside and far away from his stall when he needed to clean it. It was more work that he didn't need. At least he seemed to bring Altaïr around more. The young prince had been significantly busier since his twelfth birthday four months ago. It seemed he and Malik only ever spent time together early in the morning or late at night.

Malik approached the slightly older boy, "Good morning, prince Altaïr."

"Malik, will you please knock it off with the whole 'prince Altaïr' thing? We've known each other for far to long for formalities to hold any sort of weight with me." He responded with feigned irritation.

"Sorry, but it's not really for you. You never know when someone else is listening." The younger said, referring to the frequent bullying he had gone through up until a few weeks ago.

"Are they still giving you trouble?" Altaïr asked, looking to his friend with concern.

"Not recently. I still get dirty looks, but I have friends. Rauf is someone I can count on if a fight breaks out. The sudden lack of association with you has likely helped, as well." Malik said, attempting a lighter tone.

"Yes, I am sorry I haven't been around as much, lately. My uncle is determined to have me learn every language, faith, war tactic, and past king there is. Do you think I could have him over thrown if I really tried?"

"I don't think that would be wise."

"Heh, perhaps."

"What brings you here so early, anyway?"

"I overheard the other servants about their troubles with Jack. It seems I'm the only one that can handle him so, I will be feeding, grooming, and cleaning out his stall from now on. You're stuck with me every morning."

"I don't clean the stalls every morning."

"That can be changed."

"Gee, thanks." Malik said, rolling his eyes as he turned to start his chores.

"So, I got a letter from Maria the other day." Altaïr said, making small talk as he went to get Jack's food.

"Oh?" Malik prompted. He really wasn't interested in anything that had to do with Maria but he enjoyed talking with Altaïr, no matter the subject.

"She wants to come for a visit. I'm thinking of allowing it. I might as well. If she truly wishes to come, she will come."

"Sounds like someone I know." Altaïr threw a handful of feed at his servant, "Hey! I have to clean that you know!"

"Serves you right." Altaïr laughed.

"Well, anyway, do you like her at all? You said your first meeting went well, despite you losing a finger to the infamous Jack."

"I guess. She's not that bad to be around. Though, I've only ever spent time with her once. In her letters she's nice."

"Maybe it would be a good idea to have her over, then. A lot can change in six years."

"I suppose." Altaïr agreed. Malik finished his chores and was about to leave when Altaïr stopped him, "Why don't we sneak away for the day? I could use a break and I know you're in no hurry to do chores."

It was a tempting offer, "Is that an order, prince Altaïr?" Malik asked, playfully.

"It is now." The older responded appropriately.

Jack and Malik's mare were saddled in a short moment and they were off. It was still early, the morning air crisp and cold. They were lucky enough that the guard posted at the entrance of the city was asleep. They managed to sneak out with ease. They raced their horses over the relatively flat terrain, though it soon became rocky and dangerous for the horses to be rushed. They reached the river without incident.

Altaïr dismounted and led Jack to the river, tying him to a sparse bush rather than the tree that Malik tied his horse. They sat together on the river bank and watched the sun rise over the mountainous horizon, "Malik…?" the prince asked, sounding nervous.

"Yes?"

"I, uh…what if…she wants to kiss me…?" Altaïr blushed and looked away.

"The last time she did that, it was only on the cheek. Or so you tell me." Malik said, trying to sound reassuring.

"But, like you said, a lot can change in six years. Husbands and wives kiss each other on the mouth. What if she wants to do that? What then, Malik?" he said, throwing his arms up in his excitement.

"Calm down. Would it really be so bad?"

"But I don't know how to kiss a girl!"

"I'm sure she'll teach you."

"But I'm the boy! I'm the one that's supposed to know this stuff!"

"Stop yelling. Why don't you just practice kissing?"

"With who?"

"Hmm…maybe there's a book on it."

"You want me to kiss a book?"

Malik laughed, "No, Altaïr. I don't know anyone who could teach you so I suggest finding a book that tells you how."

"Oh, well, do you know where one is?" Altaïr asked, intrigued.

"I'm sure there is one, somewhere in the library back at the palace."

"We would have to sneak in and steal it."

"_You_ would have to sneak in and steal it. If I got caught doing that, I would get in trouble." Malik corrected.

"Fair enough. It will be easier to sneak around if it is only me, anyway."

"And when are you going to do this?"

"Why not today?" Altaïr shrugged.

"Alright, then we had better head back before people start to notice." Malik suggested.

They mounted their horses and walked them back toward the city. Malik's old mare trailed behind Jack, snorting with irritation, having been ridden quite enough for one day. It was all Malik cold manage to keep her quiet until they got back to the stables, "She won't let me ride her again, today."

"You can take another horse. Meet me back here in an hour, alright?"

Malik nodded, watching as Altaïr rushed up the path and disappeared around the bend. The young prince knew where the library was. It was finding that one, specific book that would be the challenge. He stuck to the shadows as he approached the entrance of the palace. It was clear his uncle was not pleased with his disappearance but damn it, this was important! The prince slid past the guards and darted inside. There were several servants out and about doing a bit of cleaning but they would not say anything. He noticed an older servant boy, Rauf, looking at him. Altaïr put his finger to his lips, asking him to keep quiet. Rauf returned the gesture with a grin and went about his business as if nothing had happened. He could see why Malik liked him.

Altaïr slipped down a hallway and made a pit stop in his room to grab an old, hooded cloak he hadn't worn in years. Actually, now that he thought about it, had he ever worn this cloak? It had been too large for him at the time. Al Mualim had given it to him on his fifth birthday. He had said it once belonged to his father. The young prince wrapped it around him and pulled up the hood so it would hide his face then turned to admire himself in the mirror. It was white with gold trim and trailed along the ground, still too big for him to where on a daily basis but would do when he didn't need to be recognized. He smiled to himself and ran off again.

Altaïr reached the library and groaned with frustration. The library was huge; bigger than he remembered. It seemed finding a book on kissing was going to take more than an hour. Shelves that nearly touched a high ceiling, piles of books off in the corner or on the large desk that sat in front of a window that looked as though it could be a wall by its self, and no visible organization method to the books on the shelves served as sufficient intimidation. Altaïr shut and locked the door behind him before making his way to the desk. He looked at each book on the desk and found nothing related to what he was looking for. He looked up at the shelves and felt a sense of extreme discouragement. He really didn't want to look through every one of these books by himself. Maybe he should have brought Malik.

The prince looked back down at the desk and decided that there might be books in the drawers. Although, he had no idea why someone would put a book inside a desk unless it was their intention to make it difficult for someone to find it. The top drawer was empty. The one just below that help some paper and a bottle of ink. The drawers on the other side were empty as well. One drawer was left but Altaïr seriously doubted there would be anything useful in it. However, he just had to look. The middle drawer that sat underneath the top of the desk was shallow but wide. If there was a book in there it was either thin or had several different volumes.

Altaïr opened the drawer bracing himself for the inevitable disappointment. It was twice as satisfying when his eyes set of a book whose cover had a picture of a man and woman kissing. Altaïr could have danced his way back to Malik if he wasn't so concerned with being spotted by his uncle or one of the guards. He tucked the book under his arm and darted out of the library and took the long way out of the palace that nobody ever went just to make sure he wasn't spotted. He didn't come this far only to be captured and tortured by Al Mualim via lectures on history.

Malik jumped up from his seat on the ground when he saw Altaïr running towards him, "I think I found one!" he cheered as he tucked the book into one of the saddle bags. Malik went to go get another but Altaïr was impatient, "Why didn't you get one ready while you were waiting on me. Here, just get on Jack behind me. It'll be quicker."

"It will only take me a few minutes to get a horse of my own." Malik debated.

"Get on now. That's an order."

The servant boy scowled as Altaïr mounted his stallion and offered his hand to Malik to help him up. Jack was not happy about the arrangement, either. This was made clear when he tried to take off with Malik in mid-mount. The horse took off so fast, Malik nearly fell back. He was lucky to be quick enough to wrap his arms around Altaïr's torso. The guard at the entrance from before had now woken up and appeared to be rather grouchy. Altaïr thought a moment before telling Malik to inform the guard of a merchant being robbed just around the corner. This added to the guard's bad mood but got him out of the way, nonetheless.

They returned to the river and Altaïr retrieved the book, handing it to Malik. The servant boy's eyes widened and looked back and forth between the prince and the book, "Do you know what this is?" Malik asked.

"A…book?"

"Not just any book, Altaïr. You somehow managed to find a translated copy of the Kama Sutra."

"Does it tell you how to kiss?"

"It…tells you a lot of ways to kiss." Malik said, flipping through the pages, his cheeks slightly red, "Here, I think this is what you want." Malik pointed to a paragraph and handed the book back to Altaïr.

The older boy read through the first few pages before he handed it back to Malik, "Tell me if this looks right." He said as he puckered his lips and tilted his head to the side.

Malik looked down and read the description before responding, "You're supposed to use your tongue more."

"It says you need a partner for that." Altaïr informed.

Malik read the same few pages and thought for a moment. Nowhere did it say the partner had to be a woman. Did that mean it could be applied to two men? He had to ask, "I don't think the other person has to be a woman. Perhaps we could practice with each other? I will need these techniques for my own wife someday, as well. This is a practical solution."

Altaïr put his hand to his chin and thought for only a moment, "I suppose so. It couldn't hurt anyone."

Malik closed the book and set it down on a boulder behind him. He turned back to find Altaïr had gotten very close, very fast. It took the younger boy by surprise. It was even more surprising that Altaïr did not hesitate in bringing their lips together. Malik was suddenly very nervous and didn't move until Altaïr put his hands on the other boy's shoulders and ran his tongue along Malik's bottom lip. The younger boy responded by instantly relaxing and opening his mouth to allow Altaïr to continue his practice. Something in the back of his head told him they shouldn't be doing this but the feel of Altaïr's lips moving against his drowned out all coherent thought.

Altaïr pulled away when he was satisfied that he had the technique down and looked at Malik's red face and still slightly parted lips. He thought to himself, if kissing Malik, another male, felt this good, then kissing a woman must feel even better, "How was that?" he asked with only slight confidence.

Malik nodded his head, "That was…good. At least, I think so. I don't really have anything to compare it to."

"Is it supposed to make you feel light headed?" Altaïr asked, putting a hand to his forehead.

Malik sat down on the rock behind him, "I think so. I certainly feel that way."

Altaïr tried to shake the dizziness away. He sat down on the ground and looked up at his servant, "how long do you think it will last?"

The other shrugged, "Don't know. It'll probably get better the more you kiss but until then-"

The prince was suddenly pressing his lips to Malik's once again in a more aggressive manner. His eyes shut; Altaïr pushed his tongue into Malik's mouth, causing the younger to groan involuntarily. Altaïr pulled away, "Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Malik asked.

"Make that noise."

"I don't know…? It just sort of…came out."

"Can you make me do it?" Altaïr asked, curiously.

Malik nodded and pulled Altaïr down to kiss the other boy with the same belligerence as was shown him. Altaïr seemed to fight the moan that bubbled out of his throat but lost to it in the end. This time, when they pulled away, the prince had a faint blush dusted across his face. Malik couldn't help the triumphant grin that spread over his features, "I'm sure this book gives different techniques. Do you want to try the others?" the younger asked, nonchalantly.

Altaïr nodded and the two boys spent most of the day testing different ways to kiss and touch. Malik found Altaïr had a talented mouth; he just didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. The servant boy would often direct the prince's hands to his shoulders or hips. They tried kissing while standing, lying down, and sitting but no position seemed to help with the lightheadedness.

Malik was the first to notice the hour. The sun was beginning to set over the horizon and he pointed this out to the prince. Altaïr, however, didn't seem to care. He would have rather just spent the night at the river with Malik, far away from the stress and pressures of a royal life, "I need to go home, Altaïr. So do you."

"I don't wanna." The prince pouted.

"Don't be such a baby. Now, come on."

Altaïr reluctantly mounted his horse and led the way back towards the castle.

* * *

><p>Maria arrived in a matter of weeks. Her presence was the only reason Altaïr was allowed out of his room. After his little adventure with Malik, the young prince had been, well, grounded. He was permitted no visitors other than his tutors and no type of enrichment. Altaïr was more than pleased when he was told to be in the main room to greet Princess Maria in an hour.<p>

The two were meant to be supervised but both were the rambunctious type and absolutely loved giving their guards the slip. Leaving a few false trails to buy them some extra time, they stopped to relax in the garden just behind the palace, "I really am enjoying the time we've spent together, prince Altaïr." She cooed, sitting on a stone bench and motioning for him to join her.

"You know, here in my country, it is highly inappropriate for a young girl to be left alone with a suitor." Altaïr teased as he sat next to her.

"Is that a problem?" she responded, a daring tone to her voice.

"I don't believe so." Altaïr had a cocky tone in his own voice.

"Good." Maria said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.

The prince, however, wasn't about to let his practice with Malik go to waste. He intercepted her lips with his own, gaining him a small squeal of surprise. He then proceeded to grab her shoulders so that she would not pull away as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. Altaïr did everything he had done with Malik. He did not go through every technique, mind you, but the kiss he was giving her was one of his favorites. It should have produced similar results with Maria as it had with Malik. However, the kiss felt wet and awkward. He pulled away with slight confusion and looked at the girl in front of him.

She was not pleased, "Why on earth did you do that?" she shouted, whipping her mouth on the sleeve of her winter gown.

"I thought…you wanted me to kiss you." Altaïr answered, mildly embarrassed.

"That was so disgusting!" she continued, standing and still whipping her mouth. She would have spit if she didn't think it would have been rude and very un-ladylike.

"I'm sorry." The prince tried.

"Sorry does not get your spit out of my mouth!"

Altaïr tried to think of what he could have done wrong. When he had kissed Malik like that, the other had moaned with approval. He didn't really like kissing her all that much either. This whole situation was deeply confusing, "I don't understand. When Malik and I tried it, it was great. Why didn't you like it?"

"You kissed someone else? I'm your fiancé! You can't go around kissing other girls!"

"Malik's a boy."

"You kissed a _boy_?" Maria exclaimed, appalled.

"Yes?"

"That's a sin!"

"Why?"

"I…! …Hmm…well, Father says it is. He doesn't lie."

"Maybe he was misinformed?"

"No, he said it's in the Bible."

"I do not really pay attention to these religious details. What does this Bible say about men kissing other men?" Altaïr asked, his confusion only worsening.

"God said it is an abomination for one man to lay with another as he would a woman."

"Malik and I haven't _lain_ together! We only kissed! And it was only practice for when you got here!"

"Why would you be practicing that for me?"

Altaïr blushed and looked at his feet, "The last time…you kissed me on the cheek. I thought you might kiss me on the mouth this time…"

Maria suddenly giggled, "I don't know where on earth you got that idea from. I'm only ten."

The young prince kicked the dirt at his feet. This was beyond embarrassing, "Maybe…we should find the guards… It is getting pretty late."

Maria sighed softly and took his hand in hers, "Yes, let's go find them. We'll have to make them think they messed up."

"We turned around and they were gone." Altaïr offered as a plan of action.

"Silly guards. What _will_ we do with them?" the princess agreed.

The two children were absolutely devious together. Between Altaïr's confidence in the guards' inevitable punishment and Maria's sharp wit, they managed to convince their caretakers not to mention this to either of their parents. Maria stayed for a few more days, however, she and Altaïr never managed to get away on their own again. It was probably for the best. They doubted they could fool the guards twice. Altaïr was secretly terrified to be alone with Maria again, anyway. Humiliation didn't generally sit well with him.

When the princess finally left Al Mualim had calmed down quite a bit. Altaïr was no longer grounded, allowing him to find Malik and tell him the whole embarrassing story, "And then she just laughed at me!" Altaïr shouted, flinging his arms up and falling back onto the hay stable keepers stored in the top room of the stables.

Malik leaned back to join him, "So all that practice was a waste."

"Maybe not a total waste. You still have your dignity and a great deal of skill for your wife."

"Skill?" Malik questioned, his face warming.

"Don't act like you do not realize how talented you are." The prince criticized.

"…Maybe we should continue practicing from time to time. It is a good idea to use important skills, lest you lose them." Malik suggested tentatively.

"That's a good point." Altaïr agreed, turning his head to look at his friend.

"When should we—Mmm!"

Altaïr rolled on top of Malik and pressed his lips against the other males. The servant boy barely had time to brace himself as he was cut off, midsentence. It soon mattered little to either of them as they were a bit too busy to worry about what Malik was about to say. The kiss was warm and easy; nothing at all like Altaïr's kiss with Maria. The prince briefly wondered what the difference could have been before he was suddenly aware of a heat building in his groin. Malik noticed his body was having a similar reaction to the kiss. They separated to inspect the odd phenomenon.

"What's going on…?" Malik asked, peeking into his leggings.

"I…don't know. It…feels kind of good, though." Altaïr admitted.

"Maybe we should stop…just until we're sure what's going on? Maybe that book you found, the Kama Sutra, will have something on this. Hopefully, this is just a result of the kissing and not something we need to worry about."

"Right, do you have it?"

"I thought you did…?"

The two boys looked at each other, sudden realization dawning in their faces. They left the book at the river. Altaïr would have run the entire way to the river on foot if Malik hadn't promised to go back and get it before the day was out. Of course, this still meant that the young prince was stuck with questions until tomorrow at least…

**AN: Alright, so let's all pretend that Altaïr and Malik got the book back and found out what that their little problem is totally normal. Let's also pretend that they think they need a female to do the dirty until they're sixteen, at least. It's sooooo awkward thinking I might have to write about twelve year olds exploring each other's bodies. Is that legal for me to even say/write? I'm pretty sure I'm going to get enough angry readers for being accurate in child marriage. Girls got married at around fourteen. Can you guess where the next chapter is going? Oh…crap! Did I just spoil my own shit? DX Sorry! Well, here, you can have this cookie to make up for it! :D**

**Also, i would just like to say that i _love_ writting about little Altair and Maria! They're just so cute! This also means that Maria probably won't grow up to be the bitch we all know and hate and, in the end, isn't that a good thing? It makes sense if you think about it like it do :I**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: I would just like to say, it is not my fault that it took so long for this update…really! It's my brains fault for being all stupid and lazy whenever I get a new book. Have you guys ever heard of Eon and Eona? (SPONSOR!) They are these two freaking AMAZING books and I just got Eona and I read it and my brain was all "well if ur not gonna write awesome stuff like this I'm goin on strike!" and it did! D: So…yeah…Anyway, updates are not going to be very frequent for a while. I've got a million and a half ideas squirmin around in my head. I recently discovered that I'm in love with high school AU's so I'm gonna be trying one of those out here soon and then I reeeeally wanna do a Mass Effect FanFic but I have no idea what I'm going to do for that and I just…agh! Too many ideas! XD**

**Then, I would also like to note that I have a horrible habit of making things go faster than I'd like them too. It happens every time. I goin thinkin 'yeah! This will be the one I finally tease my readers to the point of insanity!' and then in like the very next chapter the main couple's already hitting it off. In this one, I might be relying too much on my time skips but I really am getting better at this if you look at my older stuff (please don't it's horrible!). Okay, this is waaaaay too long of an author's note. Just thought my lovely wee ones deserved an explanation… :P**

**ON WITH THE STORY!**

Altaïr paced back and forth in his room. He had asked a guard to go and get Malik only a few moments ago, but it felt like it was taking forever. He half groaned half sighed as he ran his fingers through brown hair and tugged lightly. He sat on his bed and put his head in his hands, thinking of what he was going to do. His wedding was today and he was, quite frankly, freaking out. He needed Malik here with him, to even him out, keep him calm. The prince jumped up to his feet and began to pace again. What was taking him so long?

The door opened a few minutes later and Malik was assaulted by his older friend with a bear hug. The younger teen was caught off guard and wasn't sure what to do so he hesitantly returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Altaïr's waist, "What has gotten into you today?" he asked, slightly amused by his princes actions.

"What the hell do you think has gotten into me?" Altaïr exclaimed, pushing away from Malik and returning to his normal paces.

Malik watched with dark eyes as the other male ruffled his own hair and appeared to be hyperventilating, "Calm down, Altaïr. It's not the end of the world."

"The hell it isn't! Fuck, Malik, I'm getting _married_!" Altaïr's hysteria was only escalating.

Malik grabbed hold of the older male's shoulders and held him still long enough to bring their lips together. The action calmed the teenager almost immediately, as he melted under his servant's touches, "Better?" Malik asked when they parted.

"That…was a dirty trick." Altaïr pouted.

"Anything to get you to breathe. This should be a happy occasion. You like Maria, remember? She's coming to live with you."

"Don't remind me, please. I have no idea what I'm going to do. You know she probably won't let us see each other anymore?"

"Well, it's your fault for telling her what we do."

"I didn't think she'd make such a big deal about it." Altaïr's pout deepened.

Malik patted his friends shoulder and motioned for them to sit on the bed, "Come, tell me about this wedding."

"Well," the prince began, following Malik's suggestion to sit, "My cousin, Abbas, will be there along with his father. Other than him, though, I won't really know anyone there besides Maria. I would…like it if you came. Maybe if Maria meets you, she won't be so fussy about us seeing each other and…well…it would be nice…to have a friend there." He blushed.

So did Malik. He had yet to tell Altaïr of the uneasiness he felt about their entire situation; Altaïr getting married and he and Malik being physically involved with each other. His prince being married to a princess bothered him more than it should have. After all, that's what princes do. But that slight bit of confusion was nothing compared to the indescribable feeling he got when he and Altaïr had discovered what to do about the "problem" with their bodies. Whenever Altaïr touched him he felt…better than good. He felt as though nothing else in the world mattered but the two of them. Afterwards, he would be completely content in simply basking in the other's presence (which did nothing to deflate Altaïr's ego but still). All he wanted was to be with his prince and he grimaced at the thought of having to share him with some woman.

Malik blushed, realizing that he had been staring at Altaïr and turned away. The older teen misread this as being refused in his invitation, "You don't have to if you do not want to. It isn't an order. I just thought, maybe, if you didn't have anything else to do…" Altaïr began to rub the back of his neck, nervously.

"That isn't what I was…I would love to come to your wedding, Altaïr." Malik said with a weary sigh. Altaïr really did want to marry Maria. The least Malik could do was be happy for him, right?

Altaïr placed his hand over Malik's, "Thank you, my friend." He said with a warm smile.

Malik smiled back, silently begging his body not to send the blood rushing to his face at Altaïr's touch. That became all the more difficult when the prince rested his head on Malik's should, "A-Altaïr?" the younger boy asked, hesitantly.

"Shh," Altaïr responded quickly, "I'm tiered. Let me just rest my eyes for a bit."

Malik obeyed his prince and they sat quietly for several moments. The younger's thoughts began to wonder if Altaïr might possibly have similar feeling for the servant. Perhaps it was that sneaking feeling that compelled Malik to rest his head on Altaïr's. Maybe that was why he tangled their fingers together. Maybe that was why Altaïr didn't hesitate to kiss him all those years ago.

A knock at the locked door made them both jump, "Come in." Altaïr called, detaching himself from Malik.

The door opened and Abbas appeared in its place, "Our uncle has sent me to get you. It is time, Altaïr."

"That's _Prince_ Altaïr to you, Abbas." It was no secret that the two cousins did not like each other and it was quite common to see them bickering whenever Abbas came for a visit. Still, it seemed unnecessary, from Malik's point of view, to continuously remind the older boy (by about two whole years) that he was not the air to the throne of Masyaf.

Abbas scowled and crossed his arms, "Your bride is waiting, _Prince Altaïr._"

"Yes, yes, I'll be just a moment. You may wait outside my door, if you like." The prince waved his cousin away and the door shut, "You'll have to wear something nicer than that, Malik." He pointed to the fine, cotton tunic and leggings Malik wore.

"These were the clothes _you_ gave me. How much nicer could they get?" Malik blushed at his rash words, picking out the grains of intimacy that only he noticed.

"Silk would be more appropriate." Altaïr said as he crossed the room to his closet. Moments later, he reemerged holding a dark silk robe with white trip. He tossed it at Malik, ordering his servant to dress. The younger rolled his eyes and did as he was told, not bothering to slink off to a more private area. He thought he saw Altaïr out of the corner of his eye, staring at him but convinced himself that it was nothing.

When he was finished dressing, he turned to his prince for approval. The older teen smiled and waved for Malik to follow him. They marched down the hall in comfortable silence, Abbas trailing behind and clearly not happy about Malik joining the party. But then again, Abbas was never really happy about anything.

The closer they got to the actual event, the harder Altaïr's heart pounded against his chest. Malik noticed the subtle changes that signaled his prince was on the verge of another panic attack. The servant thought for a second before he decided to completely disregard Abbas' presence and took hold of Altaïr's hand. The older teen looked at Malik for an explanation but his servant continued to look straight ahead. In response, Altaïr squeezed Malik's hand in silent thanks. He couldn't possibly know how it made his friend's heart flutter, nor did he notice the slightly pinker tint of his cheeks.

They reached a pair of large, intricately engraved doors and their hands separated. Abbas came up from behind them and threw Malik an odd look before opening the doors for the prince and his _honored_ guest, "Stand by me." Altaïr whispered to Malik before the doors were completely opened. The servant only had time to obey.

Maria already stood at the front looking only a little cross at Altaïr for being so late. The early evening sun filtered through the large window behind the podium that the priest stood behind, looking far more put out than Maria. The princess' father stood to her side and Al Mualim stood across from them, waiting for Altaïr to join them. The prince marched down the aisle quickly and took his place by Maria. There was a heavy silence when Malik took _his_ place between Altaïr and Al Mualim. The servant was careful to avoid the stony gaze of the current king.

The ceremony was simple and quick. When the two were told that they may then kiss, Malik saw his prince stiffen and made sure the kiss was quick and nothing at all what he had Malik did when they were alone. The guests gave their congrats and filed out in an assembly line fashion. Even Al Mualim and the king of England left the three young teens to further discuss Marias new living arrangements. Perhaps the servant would have left with everyone else had Altaïr allowed him to do so. But the prince had a firm grasp on the younger's sleeve and giving him a look that seemed to say 'don't you dare leave me alone with her.'

"So," Maria stated in surprisingly fluent Arabic when the room was utterly empty, "Is this that Malik you told me about?" she said, sounding rather crisp in her words.

Altaïr's grip tightened and he was making a conscious effort to avoid eye contact with his new wife, "Well…yeah."

Maria looked at Malik, her gaze resembling that of a wolf eyeing its potential prey, "My name is Maria." She offered him her hand.

Malik moved instinctively and took it in his own, "Altaïr has spoken of you." He said, matching her too-polite tone.

"Has he now?" she said. The hungry wolf look faltered slightly.

"Of course I have. Why wouldn't I? We do too many interesting things for me to not tell my best friend." Altaïr said, sounding far too nervous.

"To say the least." Malik added, looking at Altaïr with a small grin.

The wolf's glare was back in a second, "Altaïr is my husband now. He and I discussed your relationship once before and I have decided that what the two of you have done in the past is none of my concern. However, now that we are married, I would appreciate it if you did not continue." She took Altaïr's free hand in her own.

Malik did not like Maria, "You cannot tell the prince what he can and can't do." He argued.

"The prince can speak for himself." Altaïr said with a slight look of dissatisfaction.

Malik visibly shrank back at the words and looked down at his feet as he uttered a quiet apology. He listened as Altaïr continued to speak with Maria, "Malik and I are still friends, Maria. You cannot simply wish him out of my life. I will continue to spend time with my friend. But if it truly bothers you so much, we will not…engage in certain behaviors…" the eldest teen seemed to struggle for the words. Maria pouted slightly but conceded to the terms.

Malik, however, sat quietly on the sidelines. He didn't want to stop being intimate with Altaïr. He wanted to be able to continue doing things with Altaïr as if everything was normal; like nothing had changed. But the dutiful servant would not speak against his prince. This was for the best, at any rate. He and Altaïr wouldn't have been able to continue their activities for much longer.

Malik was not a religious person. Though he believed in Allah as much as the next Muslim, many of his personal beliefs would likely end in him being shunned or worse were they ever come to light. However, Altaïr would be named king soon enough and kings did not engage in illegal acts…well, not good kings.

Altaïr looked to his friend and noticed the troubled expression on his face, "Maria, could you excuse us for a moment?" The girl looked slightly suspicious but made her way out of the large room shouting at a guard to show her to her new courters. "What troubles you, my friend?" the prince asked worriedly.

Malik hesitated for a moment before speaking, "May I speak freely, prince Altaïr?"

The older teen flinched. It had been sometime since Malik spoke to him so formally. He must have been really upset, "You may."

"I do not want us to… Why are you allowing Maria to give you orders? You are her husband after all." The servant stopped himself from making a rather embarrassing confession.

"She is your princess now, Malik and I would appreciate you showing her the proper respect. And I am not letting her order me around. I found a compromise. You should understand that we are married under Christian law. That does not allow me to be with whoever I want, no matter how much I want to." Malik blushed, kicking himself for not realizing that, "And besides, she tells me that the Christian Bible does not approve of two men being together as a man and woman would be. As does the Qur'an. And, though we have not exactly lain together, I can't help but feel what we do is the same." Altaïr looked away.

"Do…you believe that…? That it is wrong for two men to be together?" Malik would not look at his friend.

Altaïr was silent for a long moment before answering, "Do you?"

To Malik, that answer was as good as rejection, "Yes, I do. You are right. We should not see each other again."

. . .

Many weeks went by. Altaïr and Malik did not speak to each other. Malik had not even seen his prince in the time span. Not that he was making an effort to. In fact, he had asked Rauf to take his morning shift in the stables just so that he would not have to see Altaïr. Rauf, however, was fed up with it. Apparently, Altaïr had been in a foul mood every time he had gone in to tend the horses. He was blatantly refusing to put up with him any longer and insisted Malik get off his lazy ass and do his chores himself.

Malik dragged his feet the entire walk to the stables. He was not surprised to see Altaïr standing in front of Jack's stall. He did, however, feel his heart skip. Altaïr hadn't really changed in the time he hadn't seen the older teen. He might have been a little taller, a little more stubble on his chin, stance a bit more confident. That was one of Malik's favorite things about Altaïr. How even just standing around the other male could radiate confidence. Of course, that wasn't the case on his wedding day, but normally…

The prince turned and seemed to become significantly more nervous but regained his composure in seconds, not looking Malik in the eye but rather choosing to focus on his servant's walk. Altaïr regretted his fight with Malik, if you could call it that. Really, if it had been a true fight, his friend would have been thrown in jail. But one could really expect a servant to fully argue with the prince of Masyaf, even if given permission to speak freely. He had tried to come and talk to Malik several times but was never able to find him. He didn't want to send a guard, lest it seem like an order to forgive him. He needed to see Malik in person so that there could be no mistaking Altaïr's sincerity. Of course, that would mean he had to find the younger teen first. He quickly gave up on searching during the hours he was sure Malik would be off duty and relied meeting him in the stables. That was when he became fully aware of Malik's deliberant avoidance.

The servant went about his business in the stable, completely ignoring Altaïr in the process. The prince patiently waited for Malik to be done with all but Jack's stall. When Malik made to leave, he was stopped by his prince's command, "You did not clean Jack's stall."

"You are the only one who can handle him, prince Altaïr." Again with the formalities. Malik was really pissed.

"Perhaps. I would still like you to do it, Malik."

"Is that an order, your highness?"

Altaïr became visibly frustrated, "Yes."

Malik turned and walked obediently towards the stall but faltered when Jack took a snap at his hand. He dared a glance at Altaïr, wondering what the prince could possibly gain from this. The older teen crossed his arms and waited. Malik huffed in frustration and pushed into the stall, grabbing the stallion's halter off the wall and shoving it in Jack's face. He wasn't about to give the stubborn, ill-tempered, spoiled, pampered, mean-ass horse a chance to bite again. Without hesitation, the halter was on and Jack was being led out of the stall and tied to a post outside the stables. When the servant returned, he proceeded to clean stall in record time. He checked the feed trough and water bucket. Seeing that they were full of everything they needed to be full with, he turned to retrieve Jack only to find Altaïr blocking the entrance of the stall.

"I cannot finish my task with you blocking the way, Prince." Malik explained, attempting to go around the older teen.

Altaïr adjusted his stance to stand in front of his servant, "I have another order. Look there, in the very back of the stall."

Malik grumbled as he turned in the given direction. Upon closer inspection, it became clear there was genuinely nothing there, "Prince, there isn't anything—"

Altaïr pinned Malik against the wall and pressed their lips together. The younger didn't move, conflicting emotions hindering his thought process. When they separated a few long seconds later, the prince spoke, "I'm sorry." It wasn't much of an explanation but it broke Malik from his stupor long enough to ask for one, "What are you doing? What if someone sees?"

Altaïr gave a sly grin, "Jack's stall is surprisingly private."

It was true. No one dared come near the door to the stall and planks had been put up along the extension to keep the horse from biting anyone out of spite or whatever ran through the beasts head. Still, Malik had to look around, just to be safe, "Why…?" he asked quietly, without looking up at Altaïr.

"Because I'm sorry. I…I didn't mean to upset you at the wedding. I was only…trying to look out for both yours and Maria's interests. I didn't know you would be so mad…"

Malik wasn't mad. He could never be mad at Altaïr. Who he _was _mad at was Maria and her elegant female…female-ness! Every time he thought of her and his prince together it made his blood boil. It was her fault Altaïr didn't want him anymore. Malik sighed, heavily, "I am not mad…not at you, anyway. I know we can't continue our relationship as we have been." He still did not look at Altaïr.

The prince was quiet as he gently rested a hand on Malik's cheek and turned his head to look at him. Their brows touched they made eye contact but no words were said. Malik saw something flash threw Altaïr's eyes. It seemed the older teen was dealing with his own internal conflict. Malik guess that Altaïr was feeling his guilt and loyalty to his wife tearing at each other. If this was the case, then Altaïr was only being so kind out of a sense of atonement and not acting on feelings for Malik. This wasn't what the servant wanted. He wanted Altaïr to want this, to choose him over Maria…to love him. No, this wasn't love. That wasn't possible. They were both men. Men couldn't love each other. Then what was it that Malik felt for his prince? Loyalty? Admiration? Perhaps he was only protective of his friend. Maybe he was feeling jealous. But jealous of what?

Malik was ripped from his thoughts when he felt a pair of lips brush against his own. Altaïr's eyes were half closed and refusing to leave Malik's gaze. The younger teen desperately wanted to feel his prince against him in every way. But he was sure these actions were out of pity or guilt. His pride would not allow such weakness and he pushed Altaïr away with surprising force. He froze, realizing that he had just refused the prince of Masyaf. _No one_ refused the prince of Masyaf. If he so much as hinted at wanting something from you, you gave it to him. But was it truly refusing if Altaïr didn't actually want it in the first place? Maybe he was hoping Malik would push him away. It would have freed him from his guilt, at the very least.

The servant looked up at Altaïr to try and read his expression but there was none. The prince was making a conscious effort to not show what he was feeling at that moment. Altaïr was confused. Very confused. Malik had wanted the kiss, hadn't he? Granted, the servant had said he believed what they did was wrong but the way Malik had reacted when Altaïr pushed him against the wall…but he was the prince. A servant would not refuse the prince. "Again, I'm sorry." Altaïr muttered before making a hasty retreat.

Malik sank to the floor. He felt the sting of tears at his eyes but fought them. He told himself that this was for the best. Things between him and Altaïr wouldn't have worked out anyway. And if they had, they were bound to be found out eventually. This was definitely for the best. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. There was no harm in crying just a little with no one around.

He practically leaped out of his skin when he heard someone clear their throat at the entrance of the stall. He felt his heart flutter, half expecting Altaïr to be standing there but that expectation only made the disappointment all the more crushing, "Why is Jack tied up outside?" Rauf asked, "And why are you sitting on the ground?…Malik, are you…crying?"

The other servant quickly whipped the tears away with a rather unconvincing, "No."

Rauf's expression softened and he went to join his friend in the stall. He didn't ask what had happened. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion but he wasn't going to jump to conclusions. He wanted Malik to tell him. And, it seemed, just sitting there without uttering a single word was exactly the way to get the information out of his friend, "Rauf…" Malik started strong but his bottom lip quivered before a sob exploded from his throat and he returned his upright fetal position.

Rauf sighed with sympathy and, not knowing what else to do, he wrapped an arm around Malik's shoulders in an attempt to comfort the other servant, "There, there, Malik. It will be fine, you'll see." Rauf was a master interrogator. Speaking as if he already knew everything and accepted it only encouraged Malik to continue. "He's…my best friend… he must hate me now, Rauf. I don't want to be without him… I can't explain it but…I just don't want to be away from him." The other teen said between sobs.

Rauf could put the pieces together from there. He had seen Prince Altaïr and Malik together several times before. Rumors of them being close were common, but none revealed just how far they had gone. The few words utter from a grief stricken Malik were confirmation that Rauf's personal suspicions were correct. It wasn't any of his business and he had nothing against it personally so he hadn't said anything. He was just one of those people that could simply tell when two people were intimately involved, "I know. I don't think he hates you, my friend. The prince does not know how to properly express his emotions. But, if he truly is your friend, he will come around." The teen said soothingly.

Malik just leaned against his friend as he tried to stop the tears.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Ciao amici. It's been a while since my last update. Didn't I warn you all in the last author note? Eh, too lazy to go and check but just in case I didn't, updates will be slow. The next one might be a little sooner, though. I've decided to hide in my room for two days. No phone or other contact with the outside world period. Too much drama going down in reality. Need a little R n' R with this fic plus my original fic I'm working on. Ch. 6 and I already killed off a serious character. Damn…blame my creative writing instructor. He was the one that put it into my head that I am like a god to these characters…muahahahahaha! Alright, I'll let yall read now.**

Altaïr was stressed to say the least. His relationship with Malik was…strained. Maria had done her best to try and comfort her husband, acknowledging that it was her fault and apologizing several times and even offering to go and talk to Malik for him. It was nice to have one friend to talk to, at least. Still, Maria wasn't going to be the one to make everything go away. Though he did not voice this to anyone, he suspected his wife's involvement would only stoke the flames.

Altaïr had seriously fucked up. He wasn't entirely sure what his own standing was on two men being together but Malik had stated that he did not support it. Yet, Altaïr had deliberately sought the servant out and tried to touch him as they had in the past. The prince had already given Malik the excuse of youthful experimentation when they had been…whatever it was they had been before Maria came to Masyaf. That made sense. Yes. And then, once he and Maria were married, Malik saw that they were truly wrong, for two men being together took husbands away from women… Altaïr was coming up with some rather piss poor explanations. But who could blame him? He was only trying to make sense out of this chaos. It was so much simpler when it was just the two males. Why did Maria have to come into the picture?

He thought about it a bit more and decided that he shouldn't speak with Malik for a while. Or at least not go looking for him. Maybe all they needed was time to cool down and adjust to all the changes that were suddenly happening. Altaïr was seventeen. A man by his country's standards. He could rightfully take the thrown if he so wished. The option had been presented to him shortly after his wedding by Al Mualim himself. The prince was still mulling it over in his head. Was he ready for that much responsibility? That much power? If he were king, he could literally do whatever he wanted (within reason; the country still fallowed Syrian law which meant no public displays of affection when it came to Malik). Still, he hesitated. He had never thought himself much for politics. Such sensitive subjects were more Malik's forte. Maybe he could appoint an advisor. No one would think less of him. Many kings had done so before… Perhaps Malik might even be interested. Altaïr quickly banished the thought. The servant would never agree to that.

Altaïr sighed heavily and flopped on his bed next to Maria who patted his hair sympathetically. When Malik had done that, it had always been so soothing. Now, it just felt like unwanted contact. But why? What was the difference between Malik and Maria that made all the difference? Surely something as meaningless as gender could be the culprit. Maria was a dear friend, as was Malik but he had known Malik longer. Perhaps that was all it was. A familiarity difference. What a silly thing to matter. But it did.

He briefly wondered if he could force familiarity. Deciding to test this theory, Altaïr sat up and gently kissed Maria on the lips. She did not seem so disgusted with the kiss as their first and even leaned into it. The prince could get no reaction from his body and deepened the kiss, stubbornly. He moved to lie on top of his wife, grinding his hips against hers as he and Malik had done. A slight pleasure built in his loins but it was nothing compared to the blinding ecstasy Malik could rip from him.

Maria made soft noises as Altaïr continued the experiment. It was nice, fun even. He could stand to do this for as long as he had to but it somehow felt wrong. Like the act was a guilty pleasure. What did he have to feel guilty for? Maria was _his_ wife. The prince became more insistent with his movements. His wife would always obey his body's demands.

When Altaïr was satisfied in every way, he left the room to walk around the castle outside. He needed to think, to sort all of this mess out. Maria was entirely different from Malik. She had long hair, full lips, round eyes, soft breasts. He really liked her breasts. But Malik had lean muscle all over, short, black hair that always seemed to be messy, lips that had gone from a youthful fullness to a slightly thin, rough line, and dark eyes that engulfed him every time he looked into them. Just the mere thought of those eyes made his chest tighten with an odd heat. Altaïr brought a hand to the spot where the sensation seemed to resonate the strongest and rubbed at it, hoping to make it go away. He didn't think he was supposed to have such a feeling at all, let alone for another man.

The prince groaned and sat on a stone bench that sat in a secluded section of the royal garden. Shrubbery grew thicker around this area due to neglect. He was pretty sure no one even remembered this bench was here. He rubbed his face with both hands, ignoring the gap made by his missing finger. He looked at the stub and pinched the mostly numb scar tissue that had grown over the tip. For some reason, he couldn't possibly fathom why, he had once expected it to grow back. It was a stupid notion. Men were not lizards who could simply regrow a severed tail or toe. Malik had laughed at him for asking such a question. Of course, the laughter stopped when the servant realized Altaïr was actually serious. That had led to a rather long and boring discussion of human anatomy.

He sighed. He had been doing that a lot lately. He wanted to see Malik. Altaïr got up suddenly and marched over to the stables. His servant wouldn't be there at this hour. He only wanted to take Jack out for a run. The stallion was excited to see his master and pawed the ground as he bobbed his head with a snort. Altaïr smiled as he placed the halter on Jack's face and led him out of the stall. He fixed the horse up with a bridle and reins but decided that there was no harm in going bareback this one time and hauled himself up. He trotted through the village and out the gates, ignoring the protests from the guards and throwing in a quick order for them not to tell anyone on pain of death. He did not wish to be disturbed.

The river would be too cold to swim in this time of year but it was quiet and secluded; much more so than the bench in the garden. He only wished it wasn't so far away. It became a hassle in the warmer months when shrubbery was over grown with thorns and saplings. Snakes were also an issue. Altaïr would often take a long stick to keep the vermin back. He recalled wanting to spend a few days there; no responsibilities or people to tell him what to do. Perhaps this was the perfect opportunity.

Malik was walking back to his apartment he still shared with his brother and mother. Their father had been taken by illness some time ago. It was difficult for his mother to keep them all fed. It was common for the older brother to go without a meal for a few days. He had lost a bit of weight as a result but he was fine, really. He wanted to move out soon. Perhaps take his brother with him. That way his mother only had to worry about herself.

Rauf came rushing up behind him and nearly slammed into the younger servant in his near-panic, "Malik! Malik, it's bad! Real bad! We can't find him anywhere! The whole palace is in a panic!"

For an instant Malik paled thinking his friend was talking about Kadar but calmed at the last sentence. The whole palace would not fret over a lost servant boy, "Calm down, Rauf. Who are you talking about?"

"Prince Altaïr! He went missing early this afternoon. At first, nobody noticed. They all thought he was just holed up in his room, you know…consummating his marriage…" Malik cringed slightly and his jaw tightened at the mention of the two together. Rauf continued, "But Princess Maria came asking where he was and all hell broke loose! Nobody knows where he is!"

Malik would never admit to anyone that he was slightly concerned, however, "I think I know where he is." And with that, the younger teen turned and made his way over to the stables, Rauf close behind. When they reached the stalls it was immediately clear that Jack was missing due to the lack of annoying braying. Malik sighed and went to get his mare, "If anyone asks, tell them I believe I know where the prince is and have gone to get him."

"Where is he?" Rauf asked, looking confused.

"Where no one will find him." Malik answered simply as he mounted his horse and trotted off. He was going to tear that boys head off. Of all the irresponsible, idiotic, childish, novice mistakes to make, Altaïr had to pick the one that involved sending everyone scattering across the country looking for him.

Malik walked his mare through the dry bush and loose rocks. He could hear the gentle current of the river over the cry of crickets and night animals. It wouldn't be long before he had reached his destination. Sure enough, Jack was tied up at a tree, far from the cold water and a small fire burning in front of a hunched over prince of Masyaf.

His old mare made enough of a fuss that there was no way Altaïr wouldn't have heard him coming, yet the older boy did not look up. Instead, he turned his head away from Malik and tightened his arms around his knees. "You know, you have the entire village worried about you." Malik said, not bothering to hide his frustration.

"I don't care." The prince said, quietly.

"Well, you should."

"But I don't."

Malik's frustration was only growing at Altaïr's blatant disregard. Here was a boy that was given everything he could ever want or need and all he could think to do was complain, "What the hell is your problem?" Malik snapped, not caring that what he was about to do could be considered treason. Altaïr looked up at his servant as he dismounted and closed the distance between them and a tight fist. The punch collided with the prince's cheek. Anger surged through the older teen and he leaped to his feet in order to return the blow. His own fist made contact with Malik's left eye and the younger stumbled back. Altaïr was finished yet, "What's _my_ problem?" he yelled as he continued to beat Malik, "I have to run a fucking kingdom with a woman I don't even love and a constant stream of disapproval spewing from my uncle! Abbas hasn't left me alone since he got here! I've been asked to take up the throne when I don't even want to be king in the first place! And as if none of that wasn't enough to break me, my best friend doesn't want anything to do with a sodomite like me!" Altaïr screamed and slammed his fists to the ground by Malik's head. Tears dripped down the prince's face to Malik's, who only stared up in shock.

Had Altaïr just said he was a sodomite? Wait…Altaïr thought he hated him? Why? Altaïr hated _him_. Malik placed a hesitant hand on the older teen's arm. Altaïr moved off of him. When had he gotten on top of the other? The prince tried to hide his tears and wiped at them furiously. Malik grabbed hold of Altaïr's wrist, ignoring the stiff ache in his arm from Altaïr's beating, "You think I hate you?" he asked quietly, unsure of himself.

Altaïr pulled away, "You do…b-because I want you…I want you like I should want Maria…"

"Altaïr, I do not hate you. I…thought you hated me. I refused you at the stables. I thought you only felt guilty for me and…I don't know…I only wanted it if you wanted it. Not if you felt like you had to do it…"

It took Altaïr only a second to absorb all this new information before deciding to act upon it. He reached his hand up to stroke a bruise that was blooming on Malik's cheek. The younger winced and froze at the same time. It was as if he was trying to think of what to do but his brain wouldn't allow it. He was helpless as Altaïr placed an experimental kiss on Malik's lips. It was short, sweet, and only meant to test the water between them. When the servant didn't pull away, Altaïr made for a deeper kiss. He only got as far as a brush of the lips before Malik's brain decided to work again and he pulled just out of the prince's reach, "Altaïr, we still can't be together. You are married. And Maria has already expressed how she feels about us continuing…whatever this is." The words brought tears to prick Malik's eyes. But Altaïr did not hate him. He could live with separation so long as his prince did not hate him.

"I do not care what Maria thinks. I am the prince of Masyaf. If I took up the throne, then I could force her to be silent in her opinion. From what I understand, women still do not hold much standing in her country. It would not be so strange for her. We _can_ be together, Malik." Altaïr seemed to be returning to his usual, spoiled, prince-y self.

"No one will allow you to be king if they know you are in a…physical relationship with another man. You will be hanged as any other sodomite, as will I."

"_Physical _relationship? What about romantic?"

Malik blushed, fiercely and thankful for the dim firelight. It seemed Altaïr was only interested in Malik. He didn't even flinch at the mention of being hanged. And, in all honesty, Malik couldn't care less if he were put to death either. He would have spent much of his life happily with Altaïr. Still, he wasn't about to let his prince's recklessness condemn them both, "It cannot be Altaïr." He thought before voicing his next words, "I could not forgive myself if anything happened to you because of me."

"I can take care of myself, Malik."

"Yes, but you shouldn't have too. Don't make things more difficult than they have to be."

Altaïr pouted for a moment, "…Can we…stay here tonight…? Just tonight. I promise I will go back tomorrow, I just…I want to spend a little more time with you."

Malik frowned and sighed, "You know…we are going to get in a lot of trouble for this."

Altaïr smiled and reached to cling to Malik, "Don't care."

Malik smiled and made himself comfortable. Altaïr seemed set on using him as a pillow which Malik didn't mind one bit. He allowed himself to forget about the worried souls back home. Forgot about his mother and Kadar. About the beating he was likely to receive from someone at some point because this would all be his fault somehow. Tonight, he would only enjoy himself for once in his life. He would enjoy Altaïr's presence as he used to. Enjoy the musky smell that wafted off of him. And especially enjoy how his prince curled around him against the cold night air. Because, at some point between the fighting and confessions, he decided that he loved Altaïr. And he couldn't care less who knew or what anyone thought. Not even Altaïr.

**AN: Ppppppp! Such a short chapter. Eventful, but short. I got to thinking. I'm like a greek god. All my characters want is happiness, yet I give them more misery…oOoOh a teaser. XD till the next chapter my wee ones (which likely won't be for a while because I get soooooo distrac—wow that's a lot of O's…)**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: So…I got distracted from this story… It's not dead, I promise! There's just a lot of crap happening right now. :P Short chapter too, I know I'm the worst! D: And what's this about a purge on FF? Something about cursing, violence, and sexual situations? Seems to me this is the whole reason for an M rating so if they didn't want us to post sexy fun times with beat-em-ups and enough swear words to make a sailor blush then why give us the option of "rated M for mature?" Kinda a mixed message if you ask me, which you didn't but I said it anyway.**

**Well, enough of my rambling, on with the story!**

Malik was twenty and single. Why was he single? It wasn't like he was bad looking. At least, according to Altaïr he wasn't. But everyone seemed to have somebody. Rauf had met a pretty young thing just last spring and even Kadar was beginning to pursue a girl in the village (a few, actually). But all Malik had was Altaïr. A partner that couldn't openly show his affection and had to be shared with a woman. Not to mention the difference in social class. However, oddly enough, Malik was happy.

Though Altaïr had said he would not mind if Malik took a wife, the younger man had no real interest in anyone else. That didn't stop women from taking an interest in him, but they were easily ignored. All they ever did was giggle and flutter their eyes. If Malik were being honest, he would have much preferred a direct approach. Women had quite a bit of freedom in Masyaf. Why not use it?

The servant was currently tending to his new duties in the kitchen; making sure everything was put in its proper place so that the cooks had room to work. He and Altaïr hadn't had much time together recently but the prince had asked Malik to meet him in the library this afternoon. He had been putting it off, honestly. For some reason, he had a bad feeling about their meeting. However, this was all he had left to do. There was no more avoiding his prince.

He walked down the halls as if to his own death sentence. He was jumpy and couldn't stop messing with his hands. When he was younger he wasn't permitted to enter this section of the palace. Children tended to have sticky hands and an obsession for touching _everything_. Malik not being allowed near the library was just as likely to be a rule set by the senior servants as it was the king himself.

He arrived at the library, the large doors open and Altaïr standing a desk. The slightly older man turned to see his friend and smiled softly. Dark circles from a restless night hung under his eyes and he leaned on the desk behind him to help support his tiered muscles. Malik only ever saw this look on the prince when he was extremely stressed…or when Maria had kept him up all night with womanly desires. But he didn't want to think of that.

"Malik. Do me a favor and shut the doors?" it wasn't a command. Altaïr rarely ever seriously commanded him to do anything. The servant suspected it was because Altaïr probably knew Malik would do anything the other man asked of him without question.

Malik shut the doors and locked them out of habit. Usually, when he and Altaïr were alone, things got…heated. Malik found himself wondering if they would be incorporating that desk into this little meeting. The servant quickly shook his head to banish that thought. He was supposed to be nervous right now. Well, maybe more worried than nervous now that he saw the haggard look of Altaïr's face.

"Thank you. You're probably wondering why I asked you here…"

Not really, "Yes." Malik said instead.

"Well…I've decided. I'm twenty years old. It is time I take up the throne." Altaïr said quickly with confidence that did not match his body language.

Malik blink and thought about what to say. "Congratulations?" he guessed.

"Yes…well…I was wondering…if you would be my advisor."

Stunned again, "I'm a servant, Altaïr."

"So?"

"So…" he couldn't think of a viable argument.

"I am allowed to choose whoever I wish to be my advisor. I wouldn't trust anyone but you to do the job." Altaïr said with a smile.

"What about Maria?" The words fell from his mouth before he even knew what he was saying.

Altaïr's smile faltered. Maria was his wife. He was supposed to trust her. He did trust her. Just…not as much as Malik, "Maria does not understand politics as well as you do." He settled for that answer. It was safer. Far from the words he wanted to say and afraid of saying out loud.

Malik accepted this answer. Though, a part of him was disappointed. Altaïr knew how deep Malik's feelings ran but the subject was never brought up. The younger was just grateful his friend accepted his feelings, even if he didn't return them fully. Altaïr liked men; that much was clear, but Malik was afraid he liked Maria more. And so, jealousy would bear its ugly teeth every now and again. But he did love Altaïr so he did his best to show support and stomp down his own feelings. "I suppose you are right." He finally said.

Altaïr smiled again, a bit more forced this time, and came a bit closer. He ran his hand down Malik's arm and the younger reveled in the touch. He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around the prince's waste, resting his head on his shoulder, "So, when is all this official?"

Altaïr snaked his hands down to latch on to his servant's hips as he nuzzled against dark hair, "I'll give Al Mualim my answer tonight."

Malik could have stayed like this forever, "That soon?"

"Not really," the older said, pulling away to sit on the desk in front of Malik, "I have been thinking about it for a couple of years now but I wanted to make sure you would stand by me. If you said no, I would have delayed until you said yes…or until the old man died and I was forced to take up the throne."

Malik chuckled and moved forward to put his hands on either side of his prince, "You never were one to jump at politics, even if it is your birth right."

Altaïr got a rather serious look on his face for a moment. At first, Malik wasn't sure if he had crossed some line but then his prince spoke, "I'll be expected to produce an heir."

Malik looked away for a moment, fighting the sudden surge of jealousy that erupted in his stomach, "What, are you asking my permission or something?" his voice shook and he pushed off the desk to turn away, afraid that angry tears would spill from his eyes. He was not some woman, damn it! He would not look weak in front of the prince; in front of Altaïr.

"Kind of…" Altaïr said with hesitation.

"Well, what the fuck are you asking me for? I'm just a lowly servant. Why would you care what I thought of you having offspring?" the words carried more venom than he intended.

"Because you're not just a servant to me Malik. I—" Altaïr stopped short again of the words he wanted to say, "You're my best friend. And I believe I promoted you to adviser just a few moments ago, did I not. So it seems my asking you this would be entirely appropriate." The prince said, trying to play off the tension with mild humor.

"Well then, _my_ _prince, _let me be perfectly clear." Malik turned to face the other male, "I do not care what you decide to do with your wife. I do not care if she produces any children. I do not care if _you_ produce any children. In fact I don't care what you do so long as it does not involve me!" he turned and stormed towards the door. His hands shook with rage so badly that he fumbled with the lock.

It gave Altaïr just enough time to catch his shoulder and spin him around, slamming him against the door, "You will not speak to your future king that way." He said in a low, dark voice.

On the outside, Malik sneered, but on the inside he was a little unnerved, even frightened by Altaïr's sudden change of heart.

The sneer only seemed to stoke the flames as the prince scowled and pressed his forehead against Malik's with force. He didn't know why he was so angry. He was going to be king. Maria would give him children. Malik would be at his side the entire time. He should be happy right now, so why? Malik was mad at him. And it pissed him off. He felt the servant return the force, pushing his head back slightly and breathing heavily. Altaïr felt hot breath against his lips. He closed his eyes and tried to taste it but couldn't get enough. Finally, he caved and attacked Malik's mouth with his own. He felt resistance. Why? He added more force to the kiss and grabbed hold of Malik's neck.

The next thing he knew, he was stumbling backwards and Malik suddenly had very little trouble with the lock. Altaïr was left alone with his anger and confusion.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I was seriously unsure if I was ever going to go back to this story because I've been kinda uninspired in general lately. But then! I saw this one lil comment and I just…awwwww! They didn't even say that much! They just AAAAAHHH! I don't even know! I love my readers! **

**P.S: I have no idea what happened to Altaïr in the last chapter. O.o I honestly did not intend for him to be so…pushy? I don't even know. This happens in my original fiction too, where a character is supposed to do this thing but then they're just like "nope!" and I actually love when that happens but I'm also kinda concerned that that could turn into a sort of multiple-personality thing…I'll just…shut up now. :P**

**EDIT: This story is officially on the back burners. I got way too busy to be doing much anything fun. I'll still update. The chapters will just be short. :P College sucks. Don't do college. v.v**

Altaïr was pacing his room, furiously. Well, perhaps 'furious' wasn't the right word. More like 'anxious.' It had been a couple of days since the incident in the library with Malik and no one was saying anything. Save for Maria, of course, "You should at least speak with him." Sighed the young woman as she sat on the bed, finally giving up on trying to sooth her husband. Of course, if she knew the whole story she might have acted differently but all Altaïr would tell her was that he and Malik had had a fight.

"I cannot simply 'talk to him.'" The soon to be king replied, pacing in front of his wife.

"Then don't. You two will never speak again and move on with your lives."

Altaïr looked at her with a horrified expression.

"Or," she continued with a slightly more serious tone, "He will come to you. You will both apologize. All will be right with the world."

He relaxed a little. Maria may not know exactly what he and Malik did together, but he suspected she had an idea. He had grown fond of Maria in the last few years they had been married, even come to love her in a certain way. In turn, the woman seemed to accept that she was simply not his priority and worked to make their marriage a happy one. Untraditional; but happy. It was because of this that he had no problem with pleasing her in any way he could, whether it be in the bedroom or otherwise.

"This is out of your reach, love. Try and relax a little." She cooed and moved to place her hands on his shoulders. She rubbed the tension from them and Altaïr groaned with pleasure. She smiled and kissed his neck. He sighed and moved away from her, "Maria." He said, almost apologetically.

"I swear," she said, unoffended, "Sometimes I think I'm married to a eunuch."

"I assure you, I am no such thing."

"Oh, I know. From the few times we've coupled, you at least don't lack for enthusiasm." She half laughed.

Altaïr smiled back. He did not hate bedding Maria. He had done so in order to consummate the marriage and two or three times on later dates. He simply preferred Malik. The prince decided he would give Malik the space they both needed for a time. Then he would go and speak with him. Everything would be fine. At least, that was what he told himself.

**. . .**

Malik threw himself into his work. For days at a time he thought of nothing but chores and duties and practically ran himself into the ground. He worked until his muscles ached and he was too tired to even dream of the spoiled prince of Masyaf. He did not see Altaïr either.

Maria was a common sight, on the other hand. She was kind to the servants. She seemed especially fond of the younger ones. He saw her sneak them sweets on more than one occasion. It was to be expected. A young woman such as she would be feeling the desire to bare children. This cooing over the children was likely compensation for her own lack thereof.

She was playing a hand game with a couple of the little ones today. Malik, who had been on his way to the kitchen, stopped to watch for a moment. He recognized one of the children; his cousin on his father's side. He smiled when the boy squealed with delight as his hand was caught before he could snatch it away. Maria caught him watching and offered a soft smile. Malik stopped his own foolish grinning and went on his way.

The thought of Altaïr having children with his wife shouldn't bother him so much. But it did. He could feel jealousy gnawing at his chest. It sent pins and needles over his skin and made his limbs heavy. Sharing Altaïr with Maria wasn't so much of a problem but for some reason, them having children was a line he didn't want crossed.

Now he was thinking about Altaïr. Great. Just perfect. The prince hadn't even tried to talk with him after their disagreement in the library. Malik didn't know if he should be worried or angry. Maybe neither. Maybe both. He stopped in the hall, halfway to the kitchen and decided. He had been working hard lately, handling his private situation with moderate grace and discrepancy. He had earned the right to play hooky just for today.

He turned on his heel and to a path that didn't see much foot traffic so that he could avoid Maria and other servants who might ask questions. Of course, he had no idea he would run into Altaïr.

Wonderful.

**AN: Horribly short and I feel bad. I just can't squeeze out any creativity at this time. Well, I have a history paper to write. Maybe flat facts about some Egyptian queen will give my right brain the rest it needs to poop out some nice stories. XP**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Ok, how do you block people on this site? This guy, The Fox Familiar? Total dick. Like, he comments on my stuff with nothing but, "oh they're fags. This is stupid and unrealistic because they're fags. Malik and Altair aren't fags. You're a sick fuck because you write about fags." Every. Fucking. Time. Uhg, he's not even intelligent enough to hold a legitimate debate or offer constructive criticism. I'll be honest guys, I haven't updated much on anything because of him. I'm terrified that every time the there's a new comment on something, it'll be him bitching about my gays. Uhg. Another short chapter too. My computer is dead forever so I'm having to use friends' until I get a new one. Sorry guys. V.V**

"Malik," Altair stammered out just before the servant made to go around him. "Malik, would you listen to me?"

"Can't. Too much work to do."

"As your prince I order you to listen to me."

Malik paused and shot a freezing glare over his shoulder. Altair _never_ ordered him. To do anything. It was a severe betrayal to Malik, as ridiculous as that might sound. Perhaps he had merely become spoiled. Accustomed to Altair's special treatment. It still hurt, though. He continued walking and muttered, "Fine. I'm listening."

Altair, though in just a bit of shock from Malik's reaction, began walking alongside his friend, "I wanted to apologize."

"Oh, did you now?"

"Yes. I did. I shouldn't have acted the way I did. You are…that is…you mean…" Altair was beginning to stumble over his words. It caught Malik's attention but he didn't stop.

While Altair continued to fumble with the right words to say, they exited the castle and walked down the momentarily deserted path to the servants' apartments. "You are…important to me. I don't want…you to be unhappy. I'm taking full responsibility. Don't I get some credit here?"

"Altair…" Malik said with a sigh, "It's not…Just promise me. Don't you ever do anything like that again. Swear it."

Altair was quiet for a moment, "I give my word as a prince and future king. I will never touch you again, without permission."

They locked eyes for just a moment. Then Malik glanced around before planting a sweet, chaste kiss on Altair's lips. There was a teasing promise of more that Altair wanted so badly to accept. But Malik pulled away and slipped inside his door, "I forgive you." Was all he said before shutting the door and leaving Altair standing outside with the most amusingly dazed look on his face.

**AN Continued: It is physically impossible for me to just be done with this story. Uhg! Soon, though. Soon. Until next time my dears. Muah!**


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